


Masks

by Ponaco



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adoribull - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-09 08:38:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6898882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ponaco/pseuds/Ponaco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone wears masks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Masks

**Author's Note:**

> A short fic of pure fluff and my first attempt at writing these two together. Enjoy!

Hands, warm and precise moved with clever fingers to knead away the tightness and pain lingering in the muscles and joints of his bad knee. That tell-tale tingle of magic coursed beneath his skin until the worst of the pain subsided and a content sigh heaved from his lungs. An equally pleased sigh passes over Dorian’s lips; upturned in a smug smile. The faint glow of heat from his hands illuminated the pale, gray skin along Bull’s leg and occasionally caught the glint of the mage’s eyes in the otherwise dim bedroom.  
Bull had called him pretty when they first met, said it with a flippant sneer meant more as a warning than compliment. That distrust felt as though it happened ages ago or came from someone else’s life entirely; like a story he heard secondhand. It seemed unimaginable now, with the soft glow on his warm skin and the tug of a smile on kiss-swollen lips that the Bull had ever thought him anything less than stunning.

“Better?” Dorian asked, trailing his fingers up the inside of Bull’s thigh.

“Much,” Bull replied. 

He gave a careful stretch of his leg, his knee only aching slightly in protest. There was something of a miracle in that. A glorious reprieve from the gnawing pain that plagued him on their long trek back to Skyhold. He told himself the pain was simply a part of life. He worked through it. He fought through it. Those were the only options. He prided himself on hiding it. He dealt in secrets, in deception, and manipulation. Pain did not have a place in that equation. Weakness did not have a place in the mask that was The Iron Bull.

“You should have let me do that sooner,” Dorian said, trying to hide his concern with an exasperated tone. “We can’t very well have you limping across the battlefield.”

He wore a mask too, smug smiles and witty remarks that often bit with his own personal brand of venom. He held the mask close to his face like a helm of iron to glare out at anyone who would dare try to see what lied beneath. Bull had seen the iron turn brittle and chip away; saw the stunning man that hide beyond the armor. The wit was still there, the complaints, and remarks that no longer had sharp teeth behind them. There was kindness there, lingering on the edges and curling deep inside. A kindness and a longing that chipped away at the Bull’s own mask, prying it from his face with hands that shimmered and chased away the pain.

“Come here,” Bull said, urging him forward until their lips met.

The bed creaked beneath them, their combined weight a familiarity over the last few months. Dorian settled against Bull’s chest, his hair like silk between Bull’s fingers as they kissed, slow and meandering as though no real destination lay before them. Rain, cold and stinging battered against the windows as the wind howled against the thick stone walls. The battle still loomed in the distance, the fight was far from over, but none of that mattered. None of that mattered when the quiet set in and their masks scattered to the floor. 

He couldn’t say for certain when it happened. When exactly he let his guard down, when this became something more than idle fun. When he said he thought they could be good for each other or when he meant it; felt it deep down in his bones. He pulled back, their foreheads still touching and the ghost of Dorian’s breath still warm on his cheek. Bull stared at the dark eyes looking back at him, seeing him.

“Thanks,” he murmured, his voice gruff and strained. “It really does feel better.”

Those eyes that saw him crinkled at the edges from a smile that caused a flutter in Bull’s chest. “You are most welcome, Amatus,” Dorian said, leaning forward to press a feather-light kiss just beneath the curve of Bull’s ear. “Don’t ever hesitate to ask. I…I don’t like seeing you in pain.”

The words, breathed quiet and sincere hung heavy in the darkness; warm from the truth of it. Bull couldn’t remember exactly when their masks fell away, couldn’t pinpoint the moment when this became real and the rest of the world faded to something gray and bland in comparison. It didn’t matter. When it happened wasn’t important, only that it did and that they said Kadan and Amatus and meant it.


End file.
